


In Times of Insanity

by btvsp2082



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: (against one's better judgement), Chatting With One's Enemy, Even More Complicated Feelings/Pain, F/F, Season/Series 05, complicated relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btvsp2082/pseuds/btvsp2082
Summary: During "Checkpoint," the twelfth episode of Season Five, Glory pays a visit to the Summers' house.  In that scene, she and Buffy have what Buffy later calls, "...what in her warped brain probably passes for a civilized conversation."In this "what-if?" story, those conversations keep happening, and neither of them know why. Buffy can't hurt Glory, and in between searching for the Key, Glory has all sorts of time until the Big Day. But they're still on opposing sides. Eventually, they'll have to oppose. More or less to the death. Won't they?
Relationships: Glorificus (BtVS)/Buffy Summers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the unfinished "Buffy" stories I have, this is the one I really want to reach the end of. I'm trying to for the first time in a while.
> 
> I don't have a favorite season. I love them all for different reasons (starting with season two, I recorded every episode on VHS tapes until I ran out of show...I can't pick, or pick apart). But Season 5? The overall plot, how it's told, how by the end it's not a conclusion to the story, but a culmination of five years of character work? All crazy well done, in my opinion.
> 
> And maybe I can't pick a favorite season, but Glory? She's hands down my favorite Big Bad. Her backstory, her goal, her motivations, have always fascinated the hell out of me. She's so different than other seasons' Big Bads. What if Buffy really thought about that? Would anything play out differently?
> 
> I started writing this for two reasons: 1) The fun challenge of trying to capture Glory's voice, and, 2) I enjoy when the Good Guy and the Bad Guy stop fighting, at least for a bit, more than most things.
> 
> Hope you enjoy my attempt so far :)

Stepping into the foyer, Buffy set down her bag on the small table beside her front door. "Mom?"

No answer. No distractions to keep her from thinking about the Council and their hoops she hated jumping through. They knew she was their only shot, so why the big show? Why always tests?

She rounded the corner, heading for the living room.

"The British Brigade" came because she wanted them here; she couldn't forget that. It wasn't something she liked to admit, needing their help, but if anyone had information on Glory...

"Long day, sweetie?"

...it was “The Beast” herself. Glory waited on the opposite side of the divider separating the foyer from the living room. Buffy froze.

"So...this is where the Slayer eats, sleeps, and," Glory gathered some dust from atop the desk, rubbing it between her thumb and finger, "combs her hair? Oh..." She took a frame off the shelf above, and showed Buffy its photo.

"...So cute." She put it back, moving on. "Can't even stand it. Personally? I need more space, but uh...this is good for you, it's-it's so quaint, and..."

Her back turned, Buffy quietly walked to the fireplace and grabbed a poker.

"Buffy," Instantly there, Glory took the poker from her, sounding disappointed, "if I wanted to fight, you could tell by the being dead already."

She went to sit in the armchair. With a giggle and a smile, she looked at Buffy, who looked right back. "So play nice, little girl."

Arms folded across her chest, Buffy decided to present the illusion of power. Mostly to herself. "What do you want?

"The Key. Why else do you think I'd come here? See," Glory pointed the poker at Buffy, "I think you know where it is. And that's a good thing."

"I'm glad you think so."

"Well, it's the only thing keeping you alive right now. Because you may be tiny queen in vampire world," Glory was seemingly unaware that Dawn had just entered the room, "but to me, you're a bug. You should get down on your knees and worship me!"

Buffy tried to silently urge her sister away, eyes widening in fear.

"But oh no...you still think it's neat having Slayer strength." Glory was clearly unimpressed. "Ooh, big deal! Stronger than humans."

She feigned awe as Dawn got the hint and began to retreat.

"Who isn't? I could crush the life from you as easy as you'd break a nail. But I need the Key." Beat. "Kid! Come 'ere a sec."

Buffy's blood ran cold. "Leave her out of this.”

"Not asking twice.”

"This is between you and me."

"No—this is between me and my key." Glory’s conversational tone wavered a bit, and anger seeped through. "You just happen to be the thing in the way."

She lifted her hand up, snapped her fingers, and Dawn walked in front of the chair, arms over her chest, just like her sister.

Glory smiled. "And you, are just the darlin'-est thing I ever did see in my life! What's your name, honey?"

"Dawn," answered the girl, her expression one of teenage annoyance.

"Dawn? Did you know your sister took my key, Dawnie?" Glory attempted to get some sympathy. "And she won't give it back! I bet you know where she put it, don't ya?"

Buffy needed this to end— _quickly_. "She doesn't know anything."

"I know some stuff,” insisted Dawn.

"I bet she takes your stuff all the time without asking...doesn't she?" Glory interjected. "Where's my key, Dawn?"

"Go upstairs, Dawn," Buffy said as firmly as possible.

"You're always talking about stuff I'm not supposed to hear." Dawn was clearly fed up with it all. "I'm gonna figure it out, you know."

She stormed off.

"Ooh, I like her! She's sassy!" Glory was highly amused, until suddenly, she wasn’t. "And I'll kill her. I'll kill your mom, I'll kill your friends...and I'll make you watch when I do."

Then came the standard, evil smile, followed by frustrated sigh.

"Just give me the Key. You either have it or you know where to find it."

Getting nothing, she rose and pressed the poker into the floor. "Obviously, this is a 'one time only' deal. Next time we meet, something you love, dies bloody. You know you can't take me; you know you can't stop me."

Threat made, she dropped the poker and just, went on her way.

______

"The vampire doesn't stand a snowball's chance," Glory was at the cemetery’s entrance as Buffy charged out, already late for the Council's last exam, "but it's adorable how full of hopeless ideas you are."

" _Come on_ ," Buffy groaned, not stopping.

She’d just taken Dawn and her mother to Spike for protection. Perhaps not her best decision. Then again, if Glory wanted her family dead, they would be. She didn't know why her latest nemesis was making social calls today, but she was too preoccupied to play the game a second time.

"Love the coat! It’s not my color, but..." Glory called, and then trailed behind, taking in the winter ensemble. "You look just like a fuzzy soldier-ant. Scurrying along, so focused and insignificant...and then here I am, with the magnifying glass. Watching you think you matter is becoming more addictive than HBO."

"If you're gonna kill me, get it over with." Buffy’s fuse ran short tonight. "Otherwise, can we not do this now? I have places to be."

Glory whistled an impressed whistle. " _Damn_. Aren't you aren’t catchy? Like the Plague. I mean, not that this whole, 'whiny, sad superhuman’ act isn’t still a turn off. There’s nothing more unattractive.”

Glory suddenly matched Buffy’s pace step for step.

"Except minions. Groveling all day, fleeing in terror when I enter a room...sounds great, right? Well, it is."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"It’s so, _around the clock_ though, ya know? Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a damn week...and you can’t tear out a spine that was never there." Glory’s tone had turned surprisingly genuine, earning her an odd look. "They just tremble before me without needing to be shown why they should.

“But you, Brave Little Toaster...you turn all that yummy fear into strength, and refuse to listen when I talk. Almost respect that."

"How'd I go from a bug whose family you wanted to kill, to a toaster you respect?” wondered Buffy. “Oh yeah—you're insane."

A dismissive, flick of the hand from Glory. "It was one of those mornings...a girl can’t be moody?"

"Does that mean you _don't_ want to ruin my life?"

Glory shook her head. "Poor Goldilocks...you make everything so personal. World _doesn't_ revolve around you."

______

Buffy sped up, only to have Glory appear in her path. "Man, that's so B-movie," she commented.

"Hurting you isn't the goal here—the Key is. Now, if things hafta die for me to get it, then they hafta," shrugged Glory. "Destroying this crappy dimension is nothing more than a bonus prize."

Her scowl nicely expressed distaste. "I've seen the sights, made lots of them blind...trust me, this is the worst place to settle down. Mortals won the cosmic lotto," She gestured around, referring to the planet, "and all they wanna do is grab the next bullet train to a body bag. Where's the gratitude?"

"You should have your own talk show," Buffy quipped, brushing by. "So you getting the Key destroys the world. And you wonder why I'm not spilling."

"Wow, Buffy, if you turn into an even bigger cliché, I may need to vomit. Promise to hold my hair back?"

Glory truly didn't understand the other side's motivation.

"Don't you ever get sick of caring? Honestly. Think about how tired you look; it’s the first thing anyone notices, F.Y.I." She again walked step for step with Buffy. "People appreciate jack, but you stress yourself to prolong their pointless existence like the noble Muppet you are.

“Aw, look at the strings." She pointed at the slayer’s body. "Hope you'll be a real girl someday."

"If you're trying to make me go Dark Side, it isn't working,” Buffy told her, getting pissed. "Yeah, we're not perfect, but last time I checked, demons still outnumbered us in the 'Flaws' department."

She felt as though she'd scored a small victory.

Yet a wide smile spread across Glory’s face. "Honey, I'm a god...who only wants to go back home. _What is the frickin' problem_?"

"You're a god. From...Hell?" Buffy uttered the words hollowly, having stopped dead in her tracks.

Victory? What victory?

"Lowercase that aitch. There's oodles. Is mine perfect? I wish. Has its faults, like anyplace else. Fault numero uno was always the severe lack of outfits that flattered my figure. But it was Home, and I appreciated it."

She clenched her fists at her sides. "Even though _it_ decided to stop appreciating _me_. After all I did for it, now I could just..."

Dangerously close to laughing, Buffy asked, "You got kicked out?"

Glory's hand shot up, the threads of her sanity beginning to unravel. "Don't really wanna talk about it. Nope...not pleasant. And you bet the spiders knew. Spun their webs on that spout and didn't care. They never did."

She started to shake her head roughly.

"Jealous, backstabbing...lying, little spiders!"

She brought her hands to her head and stared at the ground. This was what the world did to her, what imprisonment forced upon her.

"Then the roaches hid-hid down in the dirt, burrowing like moles. They’re always _so_ busy under there,” she said accusingly. “And the snakes wouldn't...they wouldn't lose their skin! They slither and bleed and hiss ‘til the sun sinks, but they wouldn't do it!" 

"I'm figuring out why they wanted you gone," observed Buffy, unsettled by the scene playing out.

At least she didn't have to bargain with the Council anymore.

"Mommy's upset! Go! Before Daddy finds the bat! Mommy doesn't like repeating herself!"

Buffy took the not-so-subtle hint, booking it for the Magic Box. And the god? The god went to find an unsuspecting IQ to obliterate. The Slayer was too interesting to reduce to a whimpering, drooling vegetable.

______


	2. Two

A week and a half later, Glory sat in her commandeered, Sunnydale mansion, getting a pedicure from a random minion—she had trouble with names.

She'd taken a siesta ever since what Buffy and the witches put her through. The Slayer completely overreacted. She wasn't actually going to drain the little sister, but party crashers forced her to get physical.

She wouldn't have needed an excuse in the past, though. She would've gotten the facts and killed for fun. Lately, it wasn’t as. Sometimes even guilt happened. Wasn’t fair. Her kills these days were by necessity only...pragmatic, not pleasure.

Ben’s influence was a problem worth worrying about. Humanity was so restrictive. Jailer rubbed off on prisoner, and not in that good way. She couldn't return home with a conscience; that guaranteed eons of ridicule and punishment.

Other than her increasing descent into full-blown insanity and slow-developing morality, she did have it good here. Still, there was no place like—

"Do you have an appointment with her Well-Manicured Magnificence?" she heard a minion ask, after which, an arm broke loudly.

Glory guessed that was the answer.

Smiling, she found herself pleased to see Buffy march in, despite wanting to knot up her intestines like shoelaces. "Hey there, Goldilocks!"

She brought a finger to her lips, telling Buffy not to speak.

"Before you say anything, I just wanna tell you how touched I am that you came by to apologize."

She then made a "go on" gesture.

______

"You tried to kill my sister." Buffy wished she could pummel and cause pain.

"If I wanted Baby Bear out of the way, you'd be wearing a tacky, black dress and crying your sockets out, streaking that cheap mascara," Glory argued.

Buffy wore an offended frown. "It wasn't cheap."

The minions worshipping the god’s feet started to move.

"Know I didn't hear myself say, 'Stop.'"

They returned quickly to their task.

"You weren't that hard to find." Buffy spoke as if there’d been no interruption. "Didn't anybody ever tell you evil lairs _aren't_ supposed to be attention-grabbing?"

"Excuse me for wanting to treat myself as fabulous as I deserve."

Glory picked up the nail file off the sofa cushion beside her, and put it to use.

"Who do I need to hide from? You?" she smirked. Ignoring the glare, she decided to get to the point. "Did'ya find my key?"

Buffy still glared, even while sarcastic. "Right, because that’s why I’m here."

"Then why? Why are you wasting my valuable, unwinding time? Huh? You being in _my_ personal space just makes me regret not breaking little Dawnie’s heart under my shoe. While it was still in her chest."

A slow patrol (and ten days of stewing anger and frustration) inspired Buffy to seek Glory out. What she expected to gain, she didn't know. Tit for tat maybe—her home was breeched, so she’d even up the scorecard. And if that wasn't reason enough, well—

"I want answers."

"Ouch, I thought we were growing,” frowned Glory. “Doesn't it bother you that our relationship is so one dimensional?"

It was difficult to judge whether she was serious or not.

"Sorry, I'm the type of gal who likes her secrets close to the breast." Glory moved a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s way too early in the movie to spoil the plot."

Buffy bit back her anger, shaking her head. "Forget the master plan. Why'd you jump off 'Sanity Cliff' before?"

"Someone isn’t paying attention. Geez, Buffy, we hardly know each other," answered Glory, and it didn't satisfy her interrogator one iota. "Fine, let’s get personal. Tell Glory why you wanna croak dead."

Buffy looked nervous suddenly, her steely demeanor gone. "I...I don't."

"Says the girl who power-walks over here, straight into the lioness's den without batting a lash, when we both know I could crack her in half if I felt bored enough." Glory shook her head, almost feeling sorry for her guest. “Where's your brain, Scarecrow? Most people would call that a death-wish."

"But...you said you wouldn't. Because I—’cause you think I've got the Key."

"That was days ago! I don’t _need_ the help you aren’t forking over; I’ll only be losing a few extra grains from my hourglass...that coulda been saved."

______

Glory paused to yell at her minions. "They're done! Out!"

They didn’t obey fast enough.

"If you're not gonna use your ears, I'll rip 'em off! Go! Move your droopy, leprous asses toward some skin-care products!"

Now they fled, and the two women were left alone.

Glory brought her legs to rest at her side, on the sofa. "Ow, you look tense. Sit down, Buffy. Relax."

Buffy was having regrets, being here. Any second, this would start feeling like a warped slumber party. She chose the loveseat opposite the sofa and acquiesced to the god. Then she just...talked, seemingly to herself.

"Nothing feels right anymore. My mom was sick and could've died, a _non-soul-having_ vampire I should've staked years ago thinks he loves me—which is gross on every level possible, and _so_ not what I need—and my newest ex-boyfriend literally flew away from me."

Revolted at the Spike revelation, powerless to help Dawn cope with the idea of being six months old, and all she could do was sigh. She didn’t recognize her life.

"But most of all? It's you. You're driving people someplace beyond nuts, and I can't protect anyone. What life I had, I suddenly don't. It's too much—dying's simple. Easier. And going young’s traditional. For a slayer."

Glory stood, walking behind the loveseat. When Buffy tried to move, hands pressed down on her shoulders, massaging them.

“You can't tell me this isn't the real hell,” responded Glory finally. “Listen to yourself, Cinderella! All that depression rotted your pumpkin...and you slaved for those slippers! See why I wanna leave?"

"I'm grasping," Buffy admitted, not wanting to dwell on them having scary common ground. Or that she was more or less trapped. "Except I still hafta fight. Dunno how to stop. Maybe I think about dying, but, doesn’t mean I want to yet."

Glory once again felt respect for this lowly human sitting in her home. “I am honestly shocked right now...swear to Me. You actually did stop by just—”

“—because I actually wanted to know what happened? Even though you could drive _me_ beyond nuts? Yeah. Can’t beat you so, here isn’t any riskier than...” She trailed off. “If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already—your words.”

“Look at us...you play fair, I play fair...” Leaning down, Glory whispered in her ear. "This is where you really focus that attention, okay? ‘Cause I might not wanna shove my fingers through your skull and go yum on the juicy middle, but _somebody's_ out there keeping my next meal warm. And no, starving myself for a day won’t make your Slay-Fu sting, it just makes me crazy. If you think I'm a bitch to handle now..."

She smiled, ceasing the massage and moving in front of her guest. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

______

Standing, Buffy breathed easier. “You aren't 'feeding' and snapping my neck because why?"

"Because ‘dieting’ so I can _barely_ tolerate being stuck on this plane, wasn't somethin' I chose. Who goes in my body? _That's_ where the choice is, where the control is." Glory shivered disgustedly and positioned her hands like she did when ‘eating.’ "Feel filthier with every peek...none of this is my Wonderland, Alice. I may be an Evil Queen of Hearts, but, humans? Ugh. Haven’t even been worth killing since his Sweet Sixteen in ‘91.”

For a second, Buffy’s faced seemed to ask at once, ‘What, Who and Huh?’

Glory simply exhaled and finished the diatribe she’d begun. "If I could stay right here until the big day, I would. C’mon, they’re less than bread mold! They’re that far beneath me."

Buffy sarcastically responded, "Right. Must be why we've had three showdowns lately that’ve been more like, talk-downs. And two were your fault. Explain that, Miss...Egotastic Outcast."

Glory’s eyes narrowed. She turned defensive to avoid thinking about what that could mean. "You should be thanking me for the honor, you—"

"Are you serious?" scoffed Buffy before the truly insulting part. "I'm guessing you don't win many popularity contests. You're like this spoiled, immature—"

"Oh, is the suicidal vampire slayer trying to stake the high ground? Don’t think so. Why not have bitchy-witchy teleport _you_ off a ledge? Wonder how much you’d splat," sniped Glory irritably.

She then realized, "But she has no idea what’s swirlin’ inside that worthless, eight pounds you call a head, because you’ve hushed quiet. What would they think of their midgety honcho?”

They both silently fumed until Buffy stomped from the apartment.

"See ya soon! Hope Papa Bear doesn't maul you on the street!" Glory called after her.

Ben emerged mere minutes later, leaving Glory none-too-thrilled. She'd be replaying that whole exchange and nothing else, for who knew how long. There was something going on she didn't like, which he wanted her to stew over...bastard.

Everyone had issues when it came to family, didn't they?

­­­­______


	3. Three

Glory found a bench in front of one UC Sunnydale hall or another. It’d been several days since her last "talk-down" with the Slayer, and she'd mostly spent them keeping less entertaining, tiresome adversaries—the Knights of Byzantium—in check. The way they followed her everywhere was just sad. Obviously no one told them fanatics weren't in style anymore. No matter how many she dealt with, more appeared, raring to die. Couldn't they take a hint?

But she didn't let them spoil everything—sometimes she shopped.

Or paid social calls. This call was all about curiosity. She knew Buffy was enrolled at the school, and sooner or later, one of them would spot the other. What about Buffy had her curiosity peaked? Ben had seemingly asked the girl on a date, and been turned down.

Ben was clearly attractive, masculine...also very nearly a doctor. What was wrong with him? More importantly, what was wrong with Buffy? Besides the fact that her life was constantly in the toilet? Why’d any of this concern her?

It shouldn't. He was only a jail cell. Buffy was only a pest. A pest who'd insulted Glory the last time they shared words.

Words that didn't prick her skin, or dig deeper, as she was a god. So how come she sat waiting on this bench, enduring the leers of males far, far lower than she? It made her want to...be violent.

"Hey!" She pointed at a frat guy, who believed himself extremely lucky. "Yeah, you. C'mere...got something I wanna say."

He strutted over and sat next to her. "Hey. I’m Tim."

"Did I wanna care?" She allowed the dejection to settle in. "But you do, don’t you? You wanna hear Every. Last. Word. So listen up.”

She jammed her nails into his thigh. "Somebody should’ve taught you how rude it is to stare at greatness—especially without her permission. I blame the morons who crapped you out. They oughta see what happens when you don’t," her grip tightened, “raise your little—“

Buffy's voice suddenly said, “Let him go."

Glory sighed in disappointment. "Never usually do personal favors, but since you didn’t make me wait...” Removing her digits from Tim’s thigh, he hobbled away as fast as he could. “Better not forget to return it.”

At that, she stood. "I come all this way to try and shrink our abyss, and what’s the first thing you do? Bounce away my new stress ball before I even get to squeeze. And now I'm upset. Again."

______

"And I was hoping the last time we talked was...the last time we were gonna talk." But even the god didn't kill Buffy’s positive mood. "Guess we're both upset."

Glory huffed. "One, itsy-bitsy tiff and you're ready to call it quits? Before giving us a real chance? That's it—I want my toothbrush back," she declared. "No wonder you can't keep a man."

"This is 'abyss shrinking'? I don’t think your hell knows what stuff means." Buffy started walking, yet suddenly, she turned back around. "You know what? I'm okay by myself; I’m glad I'm minus a guy. Say whatever you want."

She felt energized defending her new outlook. "But, rain-check. I've gotta get home."

Glory’s curiosity satisfied (if she cared, she'd find the Slayer's life-choice empowering), returning to her lair would've been the logical thing...to anyone else.

The girl was right—not a single bone had broken in their last few encounters. That tended to lessen fear. Glory blamed herself.

When Buffy started moving again, she went along. Couldn’t help herself. "Whoa, hold it. I've been having these super-sized, fast food cramps whenever I think about that night. How we just left things so...bleak. We never should’ve walked away mad, and now you wanna _run_?"

"You should try Pepto Bismol. For the cramping," quipped Buffy, her pace increasing as she neared the parking lot.

"Look, I had to sleep at my friends' dorm ‘cause I was up late keeping my other friend company. Who, thanks to a robot, had windows to fix. Also, my mom went on a date she's being scary vague about, and she’s making ‘bra-leaving’ jokes, and I need to go see her.”

She hadn't caught onto the fact that she was sharing once more with her baffled enemy, who was just trying to keep up. With the words.

"But let’s get totally clear. We ‘walked away’ because I’m me, you’re you, and there’s something you want that I can’t give, and...I’ve gotta remember to quit talking to you." Buffy’s brain finally synched with her mouth. “Why am I?”

Glory had reached her limit with the casual attitude. She was not inconsequential; perhaps Buffy could use a refresher. Clamping on her throat without warning, she rushed them warp speed into the parking lot.

As the world resumed its normal, non-blurry look, Buffy got slammed against a beat-up van's driver side door, still held securely around the neck.

"Because I can make you snap, crackle and pop all over, that's why,” answered Glory. "Want me to show ya?"

______

Inside, Buffy might have been a bit terrified. Outwardly she projected nonchalance, but not for much longer. She had to keep talking so as to dodge Glory’s wrath, or else...there was no else.

She’d thought Glory wasn’t serious about the “abyss” crap, but here they were. They stared each other down until finally—

"I’m not taking back what I said. About you."

Buffy kicked godly shin, and pulled godly hair.

"Ow!" Glory loosened her hold, her captive got free, and her fist shattered car window instead of face. "Classy. Learn that in ‘slayer school’?” Beat. “If there's root damage, screw the abyss."

When she turned, Buffy had herself in a prepared stance.

"Do you want me to say I'm scared? That I know I can't take you one-on-one? ‘Cause I am, and I do. Ego feel better now? Are all gods this insecure?" Buffy began backing away as Glory encroached. "Yep, I'll call you on it every time—I'm dumb that way. At least I can admit you weren't exactly far off, and work through my stuff. You're—”

"—pounding." Rubbing her forehead, Glory tried to alleviate another headache. "You can clam yourself up anytime." Out of nowhere, her anger evaporated, replaced by a new curiosity. "A robot?"

She used to stay more on task in the old days.

"Programmed to love, honor, obey, and be homicidal to the competition. ‘Til she broke. And the thing is, the guy who built her already had a real, living, _human_ girlfriend." Buffy’s body started to relax.

"Aw, you didn't have to prove me right again...once was plenty," Glory smiled. "I told you this world was ungrateful."

She leaned back against the vehicle and removed her damaged shoes. Examining them, she sadly saw they weren’t made with preternatural speed in mind.

"Do you realize how hard these were to flay for? You owe me a new pair." She sighed. "And hey, that guy has a lot more issues than—”

"You?" Buffy was glared at. "You're right. He's disturbed. Too."

"You think just because you managed to find a few pressable buttons, you can come close to knowing me and my fabulousness?"

"No, and I don't have time to care, or hear how we all suck so much compared to you," Buffy exasperatedly said. "But since neither of us are planning on leaving town—you've got a world to unintentionally bring down, I've gotta stop it—these...whatever they are, aren’t done, are they?”

She knew she’d regret this next offer. "Rain check? I even mean it this time." 

Glory stepped aside to let her pass and flung her arm out with a flourish. "Tell Mama and Baby Bear I say hi. And don’t forget..." She tossed Buffy a busted heel, so she'd know her size.

In about ten minutes, Buffy wasn't so positive, and forgot the god completely.

______


	4. Four

The dummy in the Magic Box's training room took its hammering without complaint. Given the past couple days, no one could blame Buffy for showing no mercy. She'd buried her mother less than twenty-four hours ago. So much for her fresh start; life dealt out fresh pain instead. It was several layers deep now.

Not even Angel could heal it. She sat almost until sunrise with him, graveside, and then spent the day walking. Just walking, just moving. If she stopped, she'd notice the world still spinning, not caring that hers had frozen.

BAM. Goddamn, pointless rock.

BAM. She gave, and gave, and gave...

BAM. And it let her struggle.

BAM. Let her suffer. She should let it...

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Go to hell, except...

BAM! BAM! ...except for Dawn, Xander, Willow, Tara, Anya...

"Buffy?"

...and Giles, there was nothing worthwhile here.

"Sorry, realize it's late." Her assault continued as her watcher entered, looking ragged and somewhat inebriated.

"You know this room is yours to use whenever you wish," he assured her, half-full bottle of scotch in hand as he sat on the couch off to the side. "To escape to, if the need arises. Which I believe it has."

Buffy stared straight ahead. "You shouldn't drive places while drunk. Don't you see the commercials?"

"It's all right, I, uh, decided to take a brisk, night stroll. In a demon-infested town...bugger." Giles began to giggle, and laid his head back. "Seemed to reach the end of my liquor cabinet rather quickly. Must remember to restock. I'll have Anya place an order in the morning."

This struck him as funny, so he giggled again. "I-I knew I had something of an emergency stash here in the shop, so yes, that would explain the—"

BAMMMM! She punched a hole through the bag, and felt the inner padding surround her sore knuckles.

"One of us has to be the smart person, and it's supposed to be you. This is the wrong time for the dynamics to be shaky." Buffy's voice wavered and cracked, then she turned to him. "You can't die on me, Giles."

He rose to his feet ready to embrace her, but she retreated. Sobering didn't take long. "I tend to become a bit self-destructive at...times like these. Forgive me," he sighed. "I've never...mourned well, and while I'm sure that isn't the best phrasing—"

At that moment, Glory entered directly in through the alleyway backdoor. Both staring at her in total silence, Giles was slightly more openmouthed than Buffy. "Huh. You could hear a tongue-less mute scream raw in here. Fun."

______

What surprised Buffy was the wardrobe choice—jeans and a white, button-down peasant blouse. Drew no attention. Had she not known who this was, she wouldn't have noticed Glory at all.

Without those hideously unglamorous dresses, the psychotic blonde passed for "normal"...when she didn't insist on forming words with her lips.

Before Angel showed yesterday, Glory showed first, wearing a much louder, zebra-patterned travesty that needed outlawing (Buffy said this out loud). Glory ranted briefly on "death," and repeated how finite existences weren't beneficial. In her mind, it was probably an expression of condolence.

The cemetery visit came and went with minor aggravation, relatively little talking, and solidified an unspoken rule. No ulterior motives were allowed during their times together. Forgetting about the pressures that waited in their respective camps had become not entirely unwelcome.

"This is almost three days in a row—what's going on, Glory?" inquired Buffy.

"Nothing! It's just a turvy-topsy time, and I thought, 'It's gotta be Ladies Night somewhere in this looping, disgusting, bum-f...'" Glory saw the bottle Giles was nursing. "Except it looks like Timex-Guy already bought a round. Any for the rest of the class?"

"I'm afraid not," he spoke with false confidence. "What is it that you want?"

"Some private space with your plucky duck go-getter and mine. So be a peach and scram, Grandpa...before I scratch all the fuzz off your skin."

"We get it. Squash the imagery," Buffy interjected, and shook her head. "Giles, wait up front...I'm walking you home."

He looked uncertainly between the two women. "I'll admit my judgment may be impaired at the moment, however, this is clearly not a wise idea."

"Yeah, guess it isn't. But just trust me and don't ask. I'll be there soon." Buffy’s tone was meant to allay his fears, but wasn't successful.

"Stay alert." Still, he had faith in her judgment. There was little he could do if Glory turned violent, but he stared hard at the god, showing how intensely he’d try. "Later you'll...explain?"

She nodded to him and he left the room.

______

Buffy focused on Glory, who'd stretched out horizontal on the couch. "Who knew your closet had wearable clothes? Was starting to wonder."

"We're back to this? I shoulda just slit your throat—remind me before I hitch a portal away from this bipedal circus," Glory blew out an annoyed breath. " I didn't wanna be seen coming here, which is the only reason I’d ever dress down, so you can go jam a razor in your twinkly eye. Couldn't see 'style' if it bit you in the ass, anyway."

"Everything has been kinda blurry lately," came the concession as Buffy sat down against the wall the weapons hung from, and Glory...felt bad. She didn't like that. "Why'd you come yesterday? To the cemetery?"

"Duh, to pay my respects. Be glad I didn't know your mom from a six-fingered paraplegic though, because if you're anything like her? She and I woulda had a few issues to work through." Glory sat up and leaned forward, choosing not to acknowledge Buffy's scowl. "How're you holding up, Chicken Little?"

"How do you think?" Buffy responded, short-fused. "And don't lie. You were there because you thought I'd be so angry at the world that I'd give up the Key. Well, didn't work then, and won't now—I wouldn't doom the people I care about to whatever ‘worships you’ back home."

She spoke with the only conviction she had left. "You broke a rule for nothing; tell me why I shouldn't end this. We can just throw punches until things're back to normal...and before they get weirder."

"Uh, _I’m_ the liar? No way do you wanna slam on the brakes of our clown car. Where else do you get to wipe off the smiley face-paint and be tragic, Pagliacci? And ‘til this all crashes, we're both along for the ride...so budge over."

Unfortunately, Glory wasn't finished. "I let myself suffer ‘cause you're one of the few idiots in this dimension who doesn't think they know every, single scrap; you just play pretend since you’ve gotta ‘lead’ your useless band of Ringos,” she air-quoted, and Buffy shot her another look. "Keep scowlin’ like that, face is gonna freeze that way."

"Can’t seem to help it when you’re around."

"Gee, here comes the moaning about how I'm just another big, bad she-wolf puffing you right over the edge..." Glory sighed dramatically, weary of a rant that hadn't even happened. "Pits of despair are overrated; still, it's not my fault you forgot to pack the right bag for the one you’re in. _Someone_ didn't plan very far ahead."

"You're saying I should've expected my mother to die...and also be over it already." Buffy got to her feet, barely restraining herself as she picked a staff from the wall, and went through a series of forceful, "practice" thrusts. "I wish you'd—"

"Yeah, yeah. And if wishes were hobos, raccoons would be dropping like flies." Moving to Buffy, Glory caught the staff swung in her direction, tore it from strong hands, and snapped it in two over her knee. "Do my head a giant favor? Shut up. Listen. Learn. You gotta stop being so defensive, Thumbelina. It's only us girls back here."

"That's supposed to be comforting?"

______

Glory had her hands on her hips, looking disapproving of this continued backtalk.

Buffy felt ashamed. It was all unbelievably odd. "You're-you're right, just, stop. We have an agreement and you're pretty much the 'upfront' brand of evil, so I'm...temporarily trusting and listening. _Temporarily_."

"Lucky me." Smirking, Glory tossed aside the broken staff. "What I was trying to say, Little Miss Thrusts-A-Lot, was that 'mortality' is a fact. Especially in the backwater we're both drowning in. I've torched enough dated shoes to know that it's generally an unavoidable downer for every ant under the hill.

“But it ain't the end all—that's my job." Her smirk was darkly returned. "Death is reality, only, one day after another, legs keep on marching. Which is what yours better keep doing, because you aren't taking that last inhale ‘til I say so."

"That's the thing. You technically don't kill that often—only the Knight guys lately, who I'm not that fond of either. But it's almost worse, ‘cause long term, you're wrecking lives. It doesn't matter if the why's more for survival than pain...because you're still just gonna go, ‘Meh.’ You’re completely indifferent.

“You can walk away from whatever aftermath you make happen, and not have to cope with how it affects people, how it feels...you have no idea how hard it is." Buffy seemed to age right then and there, well beyond her twenty years. "I thought I had responsibilities before, but Life’s deciding to kick my ass now, too." Her gaze didn't hold the same focus as it had mere weeks ago. "I want my mom."

______

If it were a few months ago, Glory would've agreed wholeheartedly with that succinct assessment of her character. But the humanity from Ben had started breaking through her walls more and more. She couldn't stand the cries of her victims while she sapped their energies; it made her sick to her stomach.

Survival always won out, of course. Like it did for people who reverted to cannibalism trapped on a mountain without food or water. There—she found herself coming up with mortal justifications.

Buffy deserved blame, too. Glory was affected by her. It didn’t end at villainous respect, or at simply enjoying their exchanges/verbal sparring matches.

The slayer's pain bothered Glory. She hated the idea that Buffy wouldn't want to live. When she asked how Buffy was holding up, she may have meant it. What was going on? Because even the vampire felt something, and that made Glory none too happy.

He was dead and cold and pale and...ugh!

Emotion. Damn Ben. She wanted to make sense of all this humanity, give her fragile mind some peace, but there was no way she'd come right out and say it.

"I am what I am. When the house of cards fell, played the hand I got dealt. Gods sure as hell don't fold. You? You're a mighty mouse with a complex, who'd rather shiver behind a hole in the wall, than poke closet-monsters with a stick. All because an ancient, all-mighty cat stalks and hisses, waiting to crush your furry back. Where's...?"

Frowning, she pretended to search in vain. "Buffy! No Kleenex? I guess you'll hafta grow up a few inches, and open those eyes—not the only one getting screwed! You belong in a small world after all, I belong high above it, but it's a wash-cycle on a nonstop spin that’s always gonna use too much bleach, so just," She clapped her hands in front of Buffy's face, "make it work!"

Glory returned to the sofa and massaged her temples, while Buffy remained unmoving, and quietly flabbergasted. “ _I'm_ defensive? I strike a nerve or something? Oops, forgot, impossible. You're uber-godly and powerful and obviously unflappable...right?"

"It's complicated."

"Big shock there." Buffy moved to sit on the arm of the sofa by the god. “Maybe things’ll get better. Maybe I will. But not tonight.”

______

Wheels began turning in her head. She saw something to explore. "How long have you been, uh, earth-stuck?"

"Since leisure suits and chest hair." Closing her eyes, Glory rested her head back against the cushions. "Disgustingly too long."

"That’s like, what? Twenty-five years? Why now?"

"Already said it's complicated." Lids slid open, and Glory looked suspicious. "Don’t try asking again—records don't get more unbreakable than this."

She gestured to herself. "I'm gettin’ the feeling you're the one desperate for a 'Tell-All' best-seller, not me. Should've known you'd crap on your own rules...typical bile carrier. But you're bright, Firefly. Threw me off."

Angrily, she started to rise. "Screw it, curtain's closed."

Wasn't worth the confliction. 

Buffy gripped her arm and pushed her back down. "I wanted this over, but you didn't. Less than ten minutes ago, in fact. So it's my turn...you're staying."

She did it without contemplating first, and all she could see was a huge, neon sign flashing, ‘MISTAKE.’ After a tense few moments, Glory just clenched her wrist, pried loose, and let it go.

Breathing again, not questioning her luck, Buffy said—

"I don't get you, and I want to; that's the disturbing. You're different than anything else I've faced. You don't make excuses or hafta pretend. Your big goal isn't destroying the world, isn’t killing me or my friends. Those’re...side-effects. You just want your old life back, and didn't even ask for this one in the first place.

“If there weren't all these other catches, I'd probably help because...don't blame you. Scares me." She found her lap before looking back at Glory. "I have to force myself to connect to people, and I'm slipping; kinda jealous that you're basically numb and cool with that.

"But then, even though you don't give a damn and are as sick of the world as I am, you yell at me to find a way to live in it. Why? Because you wanna see my face when you finally use the Key?" Seemed too human. "I'm not fishing for Kryptonite; m’ still just curious...and, a little confused. Besides, even if you have some fatal weakness, there has to be a serious catch that goes with."

Glory hadn't ever been put on the spot before. As a result, she did something very human—she showed vulnerability. She admitted not having an answer.

She sighed. "I had a simple, reachable finish. Until I had to come to this town and... and you'd think that since I know the Key's human and how the choices are pretty frickin' narrow, I’d wanna finally turn off our dead-end detour—"

Air sucked from her lungs, Buffy gasped out, "You know?"

"That it's a fleshsack? That you could gimmie a name, with an X to mark its spot, right this millisec? Um, _yeah_. I'm practically omnipotent."

Actually, Glory had Ben's tiny, slip of the tongue to thank. But by the surprise that dawned on her face, Buffy could tell she hadn’t planned to say that. It wasn't meant as some malicious reveal.

Surprising them both further, "Feel better if I let you get a hit in?"

Simultaneously, they appeared to silently pose to each other: _'What the...? Was that a genuine offer?'_

When Buffy couldn't gracefully leave this new awkwardness behind, she called, "Giles!"

He ran in, comically trying to wield a frightfully heavy, well-crafted mace. "Don't worry, Buffy! I have a plan!"

She didn't notice the humor in his entrance. "We're leaving."

At home, after being unable to explain much of anything, she allowed herself to cry in her sister's arms. While Glory, well...her apartment had a good deal less live minions left in it by the time the evening was done.

______


	5. Five

"And where's my vampire?" Glory asked two minions whom Buffy hadn’t broken, Murk and Jinx.

She stood in her partially wrecked apartment. A huge hole looked out into the hallway...because she’d kicked Spike through the wall. He'd escaped, and Buffy was probably still downstairs. It had been eighteen, dull days since the Magic Box; they’d been avoiding one another until now.

This was also the first move she'd made to discover the Key in a while. Not that she was holding back, but there were those who might be doubting her resolve.

At the moment, Murk and Jinx were too afraid to. They’d lost her vampire. His torture had been nowhere near complete, which stopped being about business around the fourth or fifth stomach gouging.

_\- If she didn't want you before, then she sure ain't gonna want you now. Mm, 'red' is definitely your color, Precious. And when the blacks and blues start to shine, I'll have a damn nifty painting to hang on my wall. One of a kind collectible. -_

Raising her hands towards the cowardly Murk and Jinx, they bellowed horrible, unsettling howls due to nothing whatsoever.

"Stop squawking, you big, baby Dodos!" Glory ordered, covering her ears. "I didn't even lay a cuticle on your squishy beaks yet. _Seriously_."

"Our apologies, Most Lovely and Unpredictable One—" Murk said humbly.

Jinx dove in. "But your posture seemed so—"

"Extremely imposing and menacing—"

"That we truly had no other alternative than to cry out prematurely. Please, forgive us."

"If I may say so, it's a compliment to your awesomely, terrifying nature, and—" 

Interrupting their attempts at recovery and flattery, she screamed in frustration. "I'm in the middle of a personal crisis here! How come you aren't being sensitive to my needs? Because I can rethink the whole, 'not cutting you open' thing at any time."

They got on their knees and bowed low to the ground. "How can we be of service?" Jinx inquired.

"Uh, you can rise off the carpet for starters, ‘cause _I know_ you don't shower." Her instructions were hastily followed. "Now, tell me why I kept that rude fish wriggling on the hook so long, when he wasn't going to give up the Key. I mean, hello! It was obvious, smacking me right in the face."

She waited impatiently. "I'm not hearing suggestions, and I better, or somebody's everything is paying the price."

"We're-we're not sure, Your," Murk struggled to select a new title that expressed his reverence, "Princess-Brideliness." Jinx mouthed the word back to him in wonder, and he whispered unsuccessfully, "It was on television the day before last."

"Ah." Jinx nodded. "Hilarious film."

"I thought so, too. Very amusing—what was your favorite part?"

"Oh, clearly when Mr. Montoya—"

Glory was overwhelmed by sheer incredulity. "Okay, who dies first? Eenie, Meenie, Miney," Jinx soon felt his larynx being squeezed, "You."

"I-I do seem to recall, Exalted Glorif..." Murk piped up immediately, and she glowered at him. "...uh, One, discussing your recent diversions, not forty-eight hours ago. Purely out of concern for your wellbeing. And we, your devoted servants, do have a theory...however, we did not wish to burden—"

"I'm all ears." She spared his throat and wiped her hands together.

"And they are beautiful," Jinx gasped out, coughing.

"We have seen you more and more fascinated with the Slayer, and you've expressed how distasteful she finds the vampire's affections—" Murk began.

"But you must remember,” interrupted Jinx, “we saw her protecting him quite strongly, or we would never have brought him in your radiant presence."

"Get to a point." Glory’s blood boiled, and she paced to occupy herself.

Murk continued, "Is it not possible that you wanted to harm his dead flesh for her?"

"That means I'd have to care, dumb ass."

"Yes, of course, and-and you are beyond such an unhelpful, mortal concept," Jinx said hurriedly.

"Way beyond," Glory insisted, defensively pushing back against what she saw as accusation. "Even if I did, it all falls on little bro. Human feelings are a human problem. _Not_ mine."

_\- ...you yell at me to find a way to live in it. Why? -_

"Argh! Why don't I want her decaying in a box?"

"Perhaps, since it cannot be as simple as an appreciation of the Slayer's qualities, it is because you view her as a mirror image," Jinx offered, and was thrilled when Glory was suddenly interested. "Physically, you appear to the casual observer as peers. You are both female in the properly proportioned shape, with similarly lustrous golden-brown hair, stronger than many human men...why, the Slayer is like the Light to your Shadow, the Ying to your Yang..."

"The Jelly to your Peanut Butter!" added Murk enthusiastically, but shrunk when Glory bore into him. "The delicious, smooth-textured brand."

She returned her stare to Jinx, expectant. "And?"

"Well," he resumed, "as we understand it, she has lost her desire to be part of this world. Therefore, your anger towards the vampire must undoubtedly be due to the fact that he could take her from it, should he so choose."

Both listeners were fairly impressed.

"And if what I have said is indeed true—that you reflect her, and she you? It is reasonable to assume, given your belief that she as a human should want to belong here, and you as a Supreme, Holy Being should want to belong in our own dimension...that if you fail to convince her why she ought to stay, it will sadly mean you do not want to return to your rightful place in the blackest of heavens."

She walked up to him and began picking at his robe.

Her proximity and silence made him nervous. "Though I am-am most likely mistaken—why would you not desire to reclaim your throne after numerous years of waiting?"

Glory flicked her hand in his face. "Ssh...can't hear myself think."

______

However plausible that all might have sounded, that explanation was only given to feed her denial and escape evisceration. Most of the minions believed their goddess just liked the Slayer, and was sickened by the idea of a lower creature presuming to like her as well. While her viciousness had waned and emotion interfered more often, she still didn't hesitate to take it out on them.

It was a dangerous, tightrope of an existence to walk.

"You shall find contemplation much easier in solitude." Murk recognized that she was caught up in her thoughts, and pulled Jinx along. "Let us remove ourselves from your all-seeing...sight."

They vamoosed.

Glory knew Jinx had offered her every selfish reason she wanted to hear. She wanted to be satisfied, but what he didn't address was her restraint. With her victims, with not obtaining the prize she’d sought for decades. Ben’s humanity was getting harder to use an excuse.

And the problem with the “Buffy” excuse? By telling the slayer to keep living, Glory worked against herself. Everything was tangled into an overabundance of knots. She didn't have the patience for them.

______

"Glory?"

Oh, it was _her_. The god turned around, narrowed her eyes at the uninvited visitor's gall, and walked toward her bedroom wordlessly, leaving Buffy to follow.

"Listen, I know we...things were left dangling. We sort of entered 'Bizzaro World' and it's another thing I'm betting we both don't get. But, I'm ready to quit the dangling if you are. I just...I need to know, did Spike tell you _anything_?" 

"That's Its name? Sure. Probably thinks it strikes fear into the hearts of tots and puppy dog tails." Pulling the drape aside, Glory stared out her window. "Or maybe those squashed together letters are just compensating." She turned back. "For a shallow bite.”

Buffy muffled laughter at the barely disguised innuendo. "Really...can't comment."

Glory smiled for half a second before remembering she was mad. "All that came out was a rank stench, and some blood. Like, a pint, max. It was pretty spoiled, by the way. Guess that happens when you don't stay six feet dead," she said, her biting tone not very concealed. "Better go 'protect' It...won't be able do anything except be limp and broken for a while."

"I figured." Buffy tried not to take joy in that, as Spike did keep Dawn safe.

"If I dug deep enough to scoop out the mystery, why would I waste air here?" Glory’s eyes said the rest: _'On you?'_ "Your brain's still buzzing—use it."

"No idea."

Thinking she’d had the upper-hand, Glory deflated. "What's that supposed to mean?" She didn't wait to find out. "You wanted to know whether the overgrown tick performed on cue after I whipped it, and you got an answer. So go celebrate, dance and bang under a crucifix ‘til your limbs catch fire...I don't care. Just leave, Slayer."

_'Oh my god.'_ Buffy guessed she hadn’t heard wrong a little earlier.

"It was a robot, Glory. An ultra-peppy, 'Spike Happy,' mechanical me. That's what your groupies saw; and I'm really hoping I never hear details."

The truth hit Glory like a ton of indestructible bricks. She remembered the tale of Warren and his pathetic attempt at an artificial love life that backfired.

"Are you trying to jerk me around by the hair?" It was good to know the girl still had standards, though.

"Wish I was, ‘cause everyone bought in. They couldn't tell the difference between that and the real thing," Buffy said with a smirk, though it crushed her to think about what it meant bigger picture.

She always feared that her friends had raised her onto some towering pedestal, which was partly her fault, but she couldn't let them in. They counted on her to be better. Angel was the last time anyone had seen all of her flawed scars, and she wouldn't burden anyone with them now. It made her too vulnerable.

"Are they retarded?"

"They thought I was having a meltdown. But it's all good now; I'm back to being levelheaded and nun-like. Their 'Buffy' would never get _that_ far gone. Their 'Buffy' is dependable, has every answer, and doesn't even know—"

Glory had planned to rant about separating Spike from his manhood, but two things occurred to her: how un-coolly she’d downplayed her contempt and pain—which she didn't experience, because, god—and how Buffy just said something she almost missed.

Buffy heard the minions say they’d seen “her” and the vampire. Meant there was no way she didn’t hear the rest. Damn it.

She went to stand toe-to-toe, invading the girl's personal space. "Have fun peeping out there? Letting the eaves drop on my exclusive, 'Q&A' session? Go ahead and laugh ‘til you wretch, because the majority was total bull.

"Our 'trust bridge' is real close to buckling under the pressure, sweetie. How's it feel? Yunno, being violated? Make you wanna squirm and duck into your shell?"

Buffy didn't backpedal, despite the lack of breathing room. "Hate to break it to you, but they didn't have gods in mind when they decided the 'Privacy' issue. _Ever_. Only humans, well, non-celebrities, can have—you don’t qualify.”

Glory was the one who considered backpedaling as Buffy kept talking.

"It's kinda hard to not listen in when walls have giant gaps that, y’know, help sound travel. I didn’t try to hear any venting or theories, and I’m saying nothing. Chill." She started to make her exit. "When you're tired of dangling, lemme know."

Glory stared at the retreating back in awe, mouth forming an O. The tables had turned awfully quick—that was new. Her tables were, by reputation, immovable. Her iron grip was rusting; what was she supposed to do?

Tempering her self-annoyance, she caught up to Buffy in the middle of the hall, who wasn't stopping. "Well? I'm waiting. Not getting less ancient."

"Come to the Bronze tonight. It's a club like five blocks from here." Turning and descending the steps, Buffy knew this was the best she’d get, considering she'd already gotten a glimpse of Glory, shields lowered. "Neutral ground, and plus, there was a drink offer last time—I'm taking you up on it."

If she couldn't win traditionally, she could at least make her enemy lose cash.

"Offers expire fast...gotta love this country." Glory wanted to save face a little bit. "You know what a busy girl I am, how tight my schedule is; it took _decades_ to map out to the dot. Really doesn't give me much free time, so I wouldn't float your hopes up too high."

"If it's gonna be a big hassle, don't show."

They walked carefully around the bodies of bruised minions who were afraid to move, in order to reach the door. "Don't shove words into my mouth, Buffy. Just sayin', no promises." She glanced around at her fanatics. "Glad I get these wholesale."

"You should tell ‘em not to attack people; they aren't great at it." Buffy opened the door, and didn't see Willow and Tara waiting outside, somewhat perturbed. "Guess if I see you, I see you."

______

Seconds later, it was just Glory and the robed bodies.

Her eyes took on their usual, dark edge as she stared down at one. "When I order you to bring back my bloody and bruising work of art, you either do it, or zippo at all. Then scram outta the Hellmouth in a Dodge, because you can’t bear the pain of disappointing me.

“Wanna know what the hot topic’s gonna be around under-town tomorrow? How the best the 'Exiled One' can afford, is 'runner up' slave labor. How ‘bout some love, baby? Maybe some competence? How about that?"

"Both ooze from my every pore, Oh Wondrous—"

She held her hand up. " _No_. Not good enough this time. ‘Cause my lobby has to be creepy-crawling in fleas by now, and I didn’t ask for that!"

She was visibly disgusted by the numerous demons lying on the floor, infesting it.

"The Slayer and everyone she knows? They're _my_ solo project; hands-off and _no_ touching the glass!" She raised her foot up, and slammed it back down until she heard a loud, 'pop/squish' noise. "See? You shouldn't try to overachieve. It'll just give you a headache."

Gingerly removing her unsalvageable heel, she tossed it aside, slipped off her other one, and wondered what to wear as she headed back upstairs. 

______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I have for now....


End file.
